This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.
Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.
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Osirius growled, though the demon was perfectly comfortable sitting on a hillock overlooking one of the many cities of hell. Of course, there were buildings on fire and screams in the air, but out there on the barren grass was somewhere where he could relax, his serpent tail twitching back and forth, tongue flickering out to quest and to taste the air. A tall demon, he was a hybrid of many parts, though there was something more wolf-like in his demeanour, two curved horns arching back from his head, with a smaller set below them. His feathered wings spread out from his shoulder blades, bearing the appearance of being dipped in blood: a fitting look for hell.
Yet his body was that of a herbivore, despite being in hell, a softer round to his muzzle than that which a wolf may have had, his chest bare and muscled with a short coat of hair to cover it. It was always warm down in hell anyway. Some would have called Osirius a minotaur of sorts, but the demon called himself whatever the hell he wanted, his lower half appearing distinctly different with a thicker coat of hair and cloven hooves.
Either way, he was his own demon and more than settled out there, chewing lightly, thoughtfully, though there were no thoughts in his head. Amongst the screams of sinners tormented eternally, there was no better place for him to relax.
"Oy, feather-brain!"
He winced, opening one eye, though he didn't want to look too awake, not as the hellhound sauntered towards him. Although the theme of hell, as a general rule with all the fire and brimstone and whatnot, was black and red, the hellhound's wings were spread and bat-like, smoky-grey tipped with blue. Her fur was a deep sapphire, struck through with a similar grey underbelly, though her muzzle too was accentuated with grey, making it look leaner than it was. Of course, Sinera's eyes were the glowing, amber orbs of the underworld, flickering with the fire that made a hellhound, well...a hellhound. That she wasn't a four-legged one with the drooling, slavering jaws to go with it was a surprise to him.
Osirius growled, half-turning away.
"Leave me be, succubus, I've not got the time for the likes of you today."
"Ohhhhh?"
She grinned, taking a swig from a large bottle of liquor -- much larger than what they could get down there on little ol' earth -- vodka burning her throat as it went down the hatch. It was cheap and nasty: exactly the way Sinera liked it!
"Look, look, look..." She hiccupped, swaying, even though true drunkenness didn't affect anyone in hell. "Look...you... Osirius, was it? Ah, it doesn't matter. I'm bored, demon, and you're going to fuck the undead daylights out of me... 'Kay? We clear there, bud?"